Legend Will Continue the Love of the Dead
by FaerieQueen3
Summary: Their souls were made for each other, fit like puzzle pieces. Throughout time and across the worlds they find each other, and so great is their love that it is made legend. And so, long after they leave the land of the living, legend continues the love of the dead. (Warning: Mentions of miscarriage and depression.)
1. Chapter 1

_Hey ya'all :-)! So this two-shot is a plot bunny that's been bugging me for...Years? I decided to finally write it so that it would leave me alone, because I don't have anymore lettuce in my mind fridge. **This is an AU, so heads-up for that.** _

_xoxo_

_FairieQueen3_

* * *

She is too young in body and too old in spirit, and neither are aware of what's happening between them. (Why would they be? They're in the thick of a revolution and she is a _child.) _

Her brothers hate him, her sister is in love with him, and it all makes for a very complicated and pointless drama. But there is no melodrama with Lucy; sweet, kind, valiant Lucy. She is his friend, his confidante; the one person who seems to remember that he's still just a boy.

Whenever he feels too overwhelmed _everything_, she finds him; and though he's not sure how she does it, he relishes her company. Sometimes they talk; about this and that - menial, nonconsequential things. When there are no words adequate to be spoken, she will just sit with him and put her hand on his in a comforting gesture. Still other times, and these are his favorites, she will regale him with stories of her world. She sits with him and spins tales of Old Narnia and of the famous Wardrobe. She tells him the myths and legends behind the constellations and he listens, enraptured by her knowledge.

* * *

The war is over, and everyone jumps into the river in celebration, clothes and all. The water is cold, numbing, _liberating_. It soaks into their skin and gets into their mouths and tastes very much like freedom.

She stays and plays with the naiads, long after everyone else has fled the river's iciness. As she rises out the water, shaking like a leaf and grinning ear to ear, he can't help but think she is like a naiad herself; perfect, immortal, and beautiful. So, _so _beautiful, he realizes, and almost takes a step back at the epiphany.

* * *

Aslan tells them, in the gentle, strong tone in which he says everything, that the Pevenesies must return to their own world. He goes completely numb, save for a strange ache in his chest. He rubs at it, wondering why he can't remember recieving an injury so near his heart. (And it must be an injury, nothing else would feel so real, or hurt so _very _badly). The ache increases as she hugs him for dear life, while tears stream down her face. He notices, when she pulls away, that he is crying too.

* * *

It's has been months since they left, and really, he should be too overwhelmed by all of the work that goes into rebuilding a kingdom to be thinking about her; during the day, he is. But at night, when there are no ambassadors to contend with, or treaties to sign, he wanders the renewed halls of Cair Paravel, rubbing at the invisible wound in his heart. He pines for his dear little friend, and he is still too much of a child himself to realize she was so much more than that.

Everyone else does though, and they look at their king with pitying eyes and whisper, "Heartsick," behind their hands when he passes them in the halls. He pretends he doesn't hear them, and walks past. Of course he is heartsick, he thinks. He loves her as the dearest friend he's ever had, and now she's gone.

On the nights when the ache is very bad, he goes outside to looks at the stars. He remembers all the legends behind their designs and the sweet, melodic voice that would tell them to him. On those nights, he can imagine she is there and he doesn't feel quite so alone.

* * *

He knows it's her. Before anyone else has even spotted them floundering in the water, there is an inexplicable, unmistakable tug in his heart and he just _knows_. So really, it's no surprise that he jumps in after her, although both Reepicheep and Drinian would scold his rashness later - "And if you had drowned? You can't take such risks, Your Majesty!"

She recognizes him immediately, and _beams_ up at him. She gasps his name, shivering so hard that in comes out in broken syllables before she runs to him. The young queen evelopes him in a breath-stealing hug and he wraps his arms around her without even thinking. Her form is slim, but soft, inviting, _womanly. _He mentally slaps himself for noticing, but the thought has already been loosed, and his cheeks go bright pink.

She inquires after the rosiness - "Are you ill Caspian? You look rather flushed," - and he assures her it's merely the coldness. She furrows her brow and narrows her eyes in skepticism, but nods after a moment, and gives him a soft smile that does strange things to his stomach.

* * *

He and Lucy take to spending quite a lot of time together, when neither have any prior responsibiites to attend to. They play chess, and watch dolphins, whales, and mermaids as the creatures play in the water. On occasion she teaches him little games from her world - "It's called tic-tac-toe." - and they play together. Mostly, they talk: Of Narnia, of England, of plans for the voyage; of family (hers), and meddling advisors (his). He complains to her how they want him to get married, and she laughs at his scowl.

"Come now, it can't be that bad."

He snorts, which is very un-kingly of him, but he's never had to worry about that with Lucy. "You've never met the 'candidates' they push at me," he persists. "They're all incredibly dull, and nothing in their heads but thoughts of jewels and gowns."

"Surely though...They are - they must be very beautiful?" She fiddles with her hands, picking under her fingernails and studiously ignoring his gaze.

He looks at her curiously before answering. "Yes, I suppose they are." Lucy's mouth twitches, and only he or her brothers could have recognized the disappointment in the gesture; though why it's there, he isn't sure.

* * *

It's the "Slave Incident", as it is indelicately referred to, that sparks the change. Or, rather, it is the Slave Incident that makes him aware that the change had ever taken place. In a way, he should perhaps be grateful for the catalyst, but the young king finds he cannot be. There was nothing good about the all-consuming fear that he may never see her again. Only later would he feel guilty that he had not been more concerned for his friends.

When it is all said and done, and she is safely back in his arms, he is startled to feel more than hear her laughter. When he sputteringly asks what by the Lion's Mane is at all funny about the situation, she answers him by saying, "Caspian, I was never afraid. I knew you would find me. Even if I had been taken far away."

He is simultaneously honored and shocked by her faith in him, and his heart does a strange flip in his chest. He will look back, years later, and say that that was when he knew he was in love.

* * *

They are by the dock of Narrowhaven, a little bit away from the revelry, but still within eye and ear shot. (Neither of them are so naiive as to go too far away, lest a slave-trader or former slave-owner should catch them unawares). They touch very lightly, all along their sides. They don't speak, but just enjoy the sound of the other's exhales and heartbeats, sniffles in the cold night air. The steadying, beautiful assurance of life.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to say anything, with such a comfortable silence, but he turns to look at her and feels as though he must. As though hearing her voice will somehow solidify her existence; her presence next to him.

"Lucy," her head snaps towards him and he continues, keenly aware of her eyes on him. "You asked me once if the women brought to me as potential brides were beautiful, and I answered honestly. They are; very beautiful." She frowns, unsure what point he want to make, but doesn't interrupt.

"But," he gulps, "None of them are suitable. Any of them would be a pretty ornament and, if that is all I wished for in a queen, they could make me quite content..."

There is silence for a moment before she finishes for him, "But it isn't."

He grips his trembling hands behind his back and wonders why his palms are so slick. Speaking of marriage, of what he wants in a queen with Lucy seems strangely intimate and he finds it hard to breathe.

"I want a partner, Lucy, who could rule _with me_ as my neck and advisor; someone whom I could have not just children but a _family _with...Someone whom I love. I want...Well, I suppose I want a _wife_. Not a bauble, not a political playing card." He sighs and rubs at his eyes, "But then, there are none I have met who could fulfill that want."

* * *

He looks down at Lucy, searching desperately for_ something_ in those bright blue eyes and he realizes after a moment that it's approval. He wants her to approve of his desires, not to rebuke how he yearns for such a woman, knowing full-well that marrying for love is a rare gift amongst the higher nobility. He doesn't want to hear one more person say that he's being childish and illogical in his longing. He wants someone to agree with him; he wants _Lucy_ to agree with him. If she believes, however, that it is just romantic fancy then he knows, with startling clarity, that he will put it behind him. And he doesn't want to.

He knows with certainty that the part of Lucy that will forever be Little Lucy, his best friend who beats him at chess, will think it very good of him to hold on to his desire for a _Queen_. Lucy the Valiant however, last Queen of Narnia, Master Huntress and Healer, and the one he sees in those blue eyes now, what will _she _say about it?

She seems to be struggling with herself as she looks out over the water and says, "If it my blessing you seek, then you have it." Caspian lets out a sigh of relief. "If it is the assurance that such a noble-woman exsists...I can tell you with certainty that right now, beside you, there_ is_ a queen who loves you."

His eyes go comically wide and she turns her head slightly to look at him, her face full of so many emotions; self-doubt, apprehenesion, hope, _fear. _He is powerless against the smile that stretches across his lips, and before long there is an answering one on hers. Then his smile fades, slowly, and is replaced by a look of trepidation and gentle questioning. She raises her brow in mild surprise, but smiles softly in assent. She starts to rise onto her toes, being much shorter than he is, and he leans down turning his head to the right as she does the same.

Their lips touch and they both feel a pleasant tingling all the way to their toes. Blushes rise on both their cheeks at the contact, but that is nothing compared to fire under their skin when nearly the entire crew, apparently having been watching them, whoop their approval and cheer loudly at the couple. The two are so startled that they jump apart, eyes wide, looking like children caught stealing candy. Lucy coughs and stutters in embarrassment from some of the sailors' bawdy comments and Caspian laughs before grabbing her hand, prompting even more jeers. Lucy huffs at him and he finds it all rather amusing.

Then he turns and sees Edmund glaring at him with truly terrifying ferocity, and then it's Lucy's turn to laugh.

* * *

They stay in Narrowhaven for three weeks, which gives everyone ample time to explore the island: The bustling market place, which is filled with beautiful artwork and the smell of hot pies and salted meats, the training field (which Reepicheep makes liberal use of), and the jewelers. While there, Caspian buys for Lucy clip for her hair, carved out of crystal into the shape of a butterfly. She blushes profusely and thanks him even more so - though he barely hears her, too caught up in the look of elation on her face.

* * *

Time passes, much the same as it has since the beginning of the Pevensie's presence aboard the ship. Lucy and Caspian still spend as much time together , but now there are long held gazes and sweet smiles. Lucy blushes when he grabs her hand and Caspian doesn't even pretend to not be showing off for her when he duels with Edmund. (Edmund, to his credit, takes this business of his baby sister courting a king several years her senior rather well. Although he still makes sure that it is _quite _clear to Caspian exactly what will happen to him should he upset Lucy in any way. If the young king pales and stutters in Edmund's presence for the next week, that is nobody's business but their own.)

* * *

Considering they have been (at least in the eyes of the crew) courting since the day the Pevensie's arrived on the Dawn Treader (which is already longer than the month long courtship that usually takes place after betrothal amongst the higher nobilty.) Drinian, Rhince - and really everyone, save Edmund and Eustace - are wondering why they haven't announced their engagement yet.

"We are _not _going to have a...What was the term Edmund?"

"Shotgun."

"Shotgun wedding on the high seas! I intend to propose to Lucy on Narnian soil and marry her in Cair Paravel, as she deserves and as is befitting a queen." Caspian finishes one of his many counters against yet another unsubtle urging from Drinian for him to ask Lucy for her hand.

"Quite right," Edmund huffs in agreement. He is still uncomfortable with the idea of Lucy even _courting_ let alone the notion of her being _married. God, _he'd have to _give her away._

Drinian grumbles something about stubborn kings before he says, "Is it that you fear she will refuse you? Because if so My Liege, I fear you must be quite blind to not see how clearly she cares for you."

Caspian relishes in the reassurance for a moment, ignoring the passive insult before he replies. "It is a bit of that yes; I would be lying if I said I deserved her, no one can, and I would not begrudge her for being aware of that herself. I know though, that she would not confess to me a love she did not feel, nor accept my suit if she did not feel for me. Though perhaps it is I who accepted her suit; she _was_ the instigator..."

"She was the _what?-"_

Caspian continues, ignoring Edmund's indignant squak. "It is, my friend, as I have said; she deserves more than speedy vows aboard this ship, fine though it is," he adds, to soothe his captain's ego. "I would give her my life and the riches of the world if she but asked for it, how then can I deny her a proper ceremony? No, I will not ask her, yet."

The "yet" at the end of Caspian's schpeel reassures Drinian somewhat. In any case, he lets the matter rest and turns back to discussing the affairs of the ship.

* * *

He is well and properly _outraged _at the stupid, cowardly creatures of this island. How _dare _they try to sacrifice Lucy, _his _Lucy to this magician? How dare they imagine that it is _okay. _It feels too much like when they were sold as slaves. The fear he had felt when he was struck by the thought that perhaps she had been sold early and was already off the island...It feels like losing her all over again. One glance at Edmund's face says that both kings of Narnia are thinking the same thing.

(Another, small part of Caspian is a bit disturbed whenever they call her a "little girl", but it is easily pushed aside. Age is a very small thing to them, considering it is not un-common to marry at fourteen or even younger is royal houses, and she reigned thousands of years before his birth.)

He shocked at their audacity, but then Lucy works her way to the front and delivers her timid but firm acceptance. Caspian feels as though the breathe has been knocked out of him, and he can't help the sense of dread that consumes him.

It is nighttime now, and he holds her close to him, a bit away from the others and whispers his worries into her hair, "What if something happens to you Lu? What if," he chokes for a moment, "What if you don't come back to me?" She holds his face in her hands, her own eyes glistening with tears and whispers fiercely that she will always, _always _come back to him. In the face of her resolve, Caspian grows stronger and tells her in response that he will always protect her, always love her, always find her, and if he has to rip that damned mansion apart brick by brick to do so then by Aslan he _will_.

* * *

He grits his teeth and paces like a man possessed the entire time she is in the house, and curses his vivid imagination for conjuring up every horrible scenario he can think of. When she comes down the stairs the magician at her side, he nearly bowls her over by the sheer force of his embrace and the old Star smiles knowingly, a twinkle in those impossibly old eyes.

They are on their way soon thereafter, and if Caspian holds her hand a little tighter for a little longer, then Lucy makes no mention of it. She wouldn't though, would she, since she holding tighter too.

* * *

Nightmare Island is the product of the blackest magics, created by evil powers so ancient that the worlds have forgotten them. There is no light here, not even enough to cast a shadow and make varying shades of darkness. There is only blackness, and the thick smell of fear and adrenaline, the feel of the person you are clinging to and the slickness of the sweat on your palms.

Caspian's nightmares vary, but all of them leave him quacking in terror and denial: His father, disappointed in how he has ruled his kingdom; his dearest friends, turned against him or dying in a battle he has led them in to; Lucy being taken from him, either by death or by Aslan sending her back to her world. The last one stops his heart, and he feels so sick that he feel he might faint. He makes out her form from the light of the ship's lamp and sees her clinging to the mast, tears streaming down her pale face, and knows that she has had the same dream, amongst others.

They finally make it out, saved by The Lion again, though in a different form. Everyone is cheering and whooping in victorious delight, clapping each other on the back and others weep in relief. Caspian makes his way over to Lucy, who is cocooned in an embrace between her brother and cousin, and when she meets his eyes, she extends one arm and welcomes him into the circle. He breathes in her scent and tightens his arms around two young men who have become his brothers. This is where he belongs, where he prays to the Emperor he will stay.

* * *

Ramandu's daughter is a woman of indescribable beauty: She is tall and slender, and while her features are mature, they are still fresh and youthful. Her cascading hair is like liquid gold, and her marble skin is flawless. None can deny her majesty, Lucy knows this. There is nothing to be disputed, nothing that can be considered less than perfect, and it makes Lucy wither inside.

To see the look of reverence that Caspians gives _her _when she tells him stories or speaks with him of philosophy, now directed at this woman he has seen but once, who can _never_ know him as she does is making it hard to breathe. (Caspian oftens steals her breathe, when she is struck by how handsome he is or when he says something particularly beautiful or wise. This, however, does not leave a fluttering in her stomach and roses in her cheeks. This feels as though she is being stabbed in her heart with every breath and it hurts like nothing she has felt before.)

She sees how his eyes shine and his face flushes pink, how_ all _their faces do, and aches. He has never found her to be so beautiful that he cannot speak, she has never made him lose composure in front of his officers, and he _never _trusts anyone so immediately.

Except that apparently, he does.

* * *

She sees Caspian speaking to her in private, a bit away from the others, unaware of her presence. She had gone to fetch him when Drinian voiced his worry over his king's absence. He is blushing again, and she sees the Star's Daughter - Evangeline - smile. She hands him something, a small, shining object, and Caspian _beams_ at her , reaching out to take it before he kisses her hand.

She feels a debilitating pain in her heart and gasps at the unexpected sensation. Caspian's head snaps up and he meets her eyes. She runs, and does not notice how his smile widens when he sees her, nor how he furrows his brow and frowns in confusion when she flees from him. She just needs to get away, to nurse her breaking heart. How could she ever _dream _that he would choose her - sweet, freckled, _little _Lucy - over this magnificent lady?

She runs all the way to the Dawn Treader, past the worried figures of her brother and cousin, the concerned shout of, "My Lady," from Reepicheep and into her quarters. Though, really, they are _his _quarters. She throws herself on the bed and doesn't notice that she's crying until she sees tear marks on the pillow. A part of her feels ridiculous; it's not as though she caught him kissing her or some such. The rest of her though, the vast majority, knows that it isn't his kisses she is most jealous of - though that too would have killed her - but his affection, and she saw a good deal of it written on his face when he was speaking to Evangeline.

Lucy wishes she could be angry at the woman, at this shining half-star, but she isn't. _'I can't blame her for knowing she is better.'_

* * *

Things are not exactly tense between them, but it is too quiet._ She_ is quiet, and Caspian's worry grows each day. It feels like pity, for him to worry about her feelings _now_. Like the gentle consolation one would give to a child who simply doesn't understand, and she can't stand it. Whe asks why she is avoiding him on the fifth day in a row that she has declined his company, she smiles tightly and walks away - in more ways than one. She does this, not to be cruel, but because she does not trust her own voice not to crack, or her passionate temper not to snap and let loose upon her suitor all the heartache and crushing inadequacy that has been building up since they left Ramandu's Island.

Lucy closes the door to her room and leans her head against the door for a moment before making her way to the window. She presses her forehead against the cool glass and takes refuge in the sound of the water. The sea has always been loved by her and loved her in return. She has never had to fight for wasn't supposed to become like this, not when she was finally _happy_. But sometimes she sees him when he looks behind the ship, towards Ramandu's Island, fingering the token Evangeline gave him, which he keeps in his pocket.

_'He_ _misses her_,' Lucy thinks, too tired to be bitter.

* * *

She has just woken up, already weary of the day that has not yet begun, when she hears the door open. She doesn't look to see who it is, and she doesn't need to; she knows full well that it is either Edmund or-

"Lucy?"

She sighs and turns her head just enough to see Caspian's worried face. Then she turns away. What can she say to him? They have spent nearly the equivalent of a year together, and she thought of him often, her dearest friend, for all the years between. To see now that their relationship means so little to him that his regard for her is swept away by the physical beauty of a woman he does not know is wrenching.

He kneels down beside the bed and speaks, "I do not know how much you saw, but...I can surmise what it is- what you _think _you saw, and I cannot bear the thought of it." Lucy nearly scoffs at that. Caspian sighs and reaches into his pocket. Lucy lifts her eyes to see what it is, and then claps her hands over her mouth. In his hand is a ring, made of silver, with a single shining diamond imbedded in the band.

"She made no advances to me Lucy, nor I to her. She did, however, offer me a gift to take with me on the journey. She asked what it was I wished for and...Well." He holds up the ring to her with a small smile. "I had meant to ask you in Narnia, on our own land, but it seems that fate has decided for me." He heaves a shuddering breath before asking, "Lucy Pevensie, will you be my wife."

She's not sure when the tears came, but she doesn't bother to wipe them away before she tackles Caspian to the ground in a fierce hug, knocking the wind out of both of them. They look at each other for a moment, eyes and smiles wide before dissolving into laughter.

* * *

They walk out of the cabin, and when they are in the sunlight, he grabs her left hand, lifting it into the air and turning it so the engagement ring catches the light. It takes only a moment for everyone to see the glinting metal and let out a cheer.

Eustace is utterly shell-shocked (he has yet to wrap his head around the process of Narnian courting, and is, as Edmund would put it, "confused as hell"). Edmund wears a resigned smile, while Reepicheep leaps into the air with a shout of _"Congratulations Your Majesties!"_

_Drinian, _meanwhile, looks entirely too pleased as Rhince grumpily tosses him a small bag of coins.

* * *

When the sea grows sweet, and the skies impossibly blue, time seems to slow. Days and weeks blend together, and yet no one seems to take notice - or, if they do, no one particularly cares. Furthermore,_ they _are changing; becoming fresher and brighter, just like the world around them, and it feels like they can think clearly for the first time in their lives.

There is a quietness here: Even the water seems to slosh very softly against the ship, and the need - or even the desire - to speak is seldom and generally not acted upon even when it is felt, so as not to disturb the blessed, beautiful silence all around. Love, brotherhood, and friendship is felt more keenly than ever before, and more visible as well. Perhaps that is also part of it; no one feels the need to say anything, because they can showing with actions what they feel and want and need.

It is bliss, in a way that Caspian had never imagined it before, and now thinks himself a fool for ever imagining it any other way. Here, at the edge of the sea, gazing out over the water with Lucy's hand in his, the king glimpses eternity, and he knows that this, _this _is Heaven. This feeling of love, wholeness, freedom from human needs, is what one would feel, multiplied a hundred-fold, in Aslan's Country. He thinks that if this what it's like after you die, it may not be so bad.

* * *

They are here, they are at the end of the world - or as close as any ship can get - and he knows he is going to lose her; knows it like he knew she had returned to him when she appeared in the sea. There is the finality of a journey ended, and he knows that they'll be going back to their world again, leaving him behind; again.

So he tries to buy time. He spends days in the same spot, telling the crew he is "deciding what to do" even though there is nothing to decide, and everyone aboard the ship, Pevensie's included, are befuddled by his actions. But he doesn't care; he can't lose her now, not ever again, and if by some miracle staying here forever will keep her with him, then by the Lion he'll do it.

* * *

He thinks of it out of the blue, and really, it seems so simple now. He'll go with her, he'll live and adjust in her world as she had and has in his. Trumpkin will pick a fine king, he knows, perhaps better than he could have ever been. He can't lose her, he _won't. _The crew, however, have other ideas:

"Your Majesty, what the devil are you thinking?!"

"It's that water, I _knew _it was too good to be true-"

"-bind you until you come to your senses!"

"_Enough!"_

With that, he storms into his cabin - though it feels more and more like Lucy's cabin now - and slams the door behind him. He paces like caged animal, and indeed, he feels like one: He feels trapped by the crown he fought so hard for, by his crew for their _damnable _loyalty, and by Lucy herself for making him feel so much and making it physically painful to imagine marrying a twit of a princess - and he would have to marry, eventually - in place of the beautiful, courageous queen that he truly wants.

Then Aslan appears and tells him that he has to stay, to rule the land as he had sworn to do; to make his Father proud. He couldn't go to her world, but Lucy could stay in his.

"I can't ask her to leave her family behind for me, it's too cruel."

"That is her decision to make, my son, and hers alone. Would it not be crueller still to deny her the possibility of a lifetime in the land she loves with the king she loves?"

* * *

He doesn't know how to ask her, how to even begin to broach the subject, and he spends a good half hour thinking it over. He sits down, then stands, then paces, then laughs, a little manically, then stops, then sits down again. Finally, he simply calls them in, Eustace, Edmund, and Lucy all.

He tells them that he can't go with them, that it was selfish of him to even want to - because really, it was and he knew it, but didn't care - and that he wishes they could stay. Then he stops and stutters for a moment.

"What else did he say," Edmund asks, wondering why his friend had hesitated.

Caspian opens his mouth, then closes it, then gulps and takes a breath before saying, "He said Lucy could stay, if she chose, " Lucy gasps in delight, "But...You must understand, I would not ask this of anyone-"

"What did he say." Edmund was more forcibly now, a part of him already knowing what the condition was.

"That Lucy could stay, but that she would never be able to go back."

There is a heavy silence in the cabin, filled with questions and worry, and all three boys, but specifically Edmund and Caspian, not knowing what they're lives would be like without Lucy in it, not wanting to know.

"You as well Edmund." Edmund's head whips up, and his neck pops with the force. "He said you could stay as well, though again, you would never be able to return." Edmund looks like he's just been slapped, and Caspian squirms uncomfortably for a second before he stands up and says, "I'll leave you to think it over on your own." Eustace follows behind him, knowing that this something that the siblings have to decide alone.

* * *

When they leave the room, everything is deafeningly silent. Neither know what to say, and even if they did, they wouldn't know how to say it. Finally Edmund speaks up and merely says, "I can't."

Lucy chokes on air for a moment and turns sharply to look at her brother, "...Ed?" Confusion and heartbreak is written all over her face.

The former monarch sighs, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face. "I can't Lu. I can't leave England, I can't leave the dreams I have for a future there...I can't leave. I love Narnia Lu, I always will, but I don't belong there anymore. But you do." Lucy had started to silently cry during his speech, and nearly choked at his last words.

"But I-"

"You love him," he said simply, nodding to Caspian. She hung her head a bit, blushing, but didn't deny it. "You love him, and he's here, and you love it here. Besides, there is a queen in you still, and I'll be damned if she whithers away in a boarding school when she could be on a battlefield, on her throne...In a ballroom with her king."

Lucy hiccoughs a sob. Edmund grabs her chin and tilts her head so that she's looking him. He gives her a watery smile. "I'm going to miss you, Little Lucy."

She gathers herself enough to speak, "I will love you forever, brother-mine." She looks at him for a moment before giving a smile and saying, "Your words are still so beautiful Ed, for a moment I saw you in velvet and silver, King Edmund the Just again. Handsome young man, you were."

Edmund laughs to keep from crying and says, "It runs in the family, you should see how beautiful my baby sister turned out."

* * *

They hold each other to the point that neither can breathe, but they hold tighter still, knowing this is the last they will see of each other in this lifetime. They don't cry, there are not enough tears left for that, but the cling to each other for dear life.

When they finally let go, Lucy turns to Reepicheep and asks if she can do the one thing to she has always wanted to do; stroke his thick brown fur. The noble-mouse, while obviously embarrassed, is not offended, and lets his queen stroke his ears and run her hands through the fur on his head. If a mouse could blush, Reepicheep would have been bright pink, and it makes Lucy laugh which in turn makes Caspian, then Drinian, then Edmund and Eustace, and the Rhince laugh. Reepicheep, despite denying that there is anything funny about the situation, doesn't rebuke them, and Lucy takes that to mean that he's amused too.

But then the little boat is disappearing into the distance and there is nothing funny about that. Lucy isn't sure anything will be funny for a good long while. She doesn't regret her decision, she never shall, but she will always regret not having her brother.


	2. Chapter 2

They return to Narnia and Trumpkin, upon seeing her when she enters the throne room, scrambles up from the Steward's throne and rushed over to her, a merry smile on his face. He is about to embrace her, but then stops short, bows deeply and says, "Your Highness, welcome home."

Lucy laughs and swoops down to pull him into tight hug. "Oh! _Dear_ Trumpkin, how I've missed you, my friend."

Trumpkin smiles at her, in the fatherly way that he has reserved for the littlest queen of Narnia ever since their auspicious first meeting. "And I you, my queen."

* * *

The announcement of Lucy's permanent return and she and Caspian's subsequent engagement is met with ecstatic relief throughout the kingdom (save for a the nobles with eligible daughters, who had hoped Caspian would marry one of _their _children). The Court, upon Caspian's confirmation that _yes _he is sure and _yes _this really is Queen Lucy the Valiant, and would they _please _stop asking so many questions, want to dive into wedding arrangements almost immediately, as though afraid their king will change his mind and they'll be back to square one. Caspian and Lucy however, unanimously object. They had decided on the return journey that they would wait at least a year to marry. Caspian wants to court her properly and Lucy wants to get settled back into Narnia, remember the feel of Her and the inner-workings of her politics and etiquette. Not to mention, she feels she has become frighteningly inept with her bow, and _dreadful_ with a sword, and wants to re-learn how to use them again; wants to re-learn how to be Queen Lucy, the great warrior again.

* * *

As it turns out, Calormen had been pushing for Caspian to marry the Tisroc's niece, Seraphim Tarkheena. The Tisroc insisted that Narnia had made an agreement with them, despite the Court and Caspian's vehement denials and lack of anything resembling proof, and demanded compensation for a deal broken. This, of course, led to months of negotiations between the two countries, and the whole affair dragged on for a over a half-year. Rebuilding the political bridges, with Calormen, and with the afore-mentioned nobles of the Lone Islands, as well as several in Archenland, takes nearly as long.

Then, the Court suggests that Lucy be taken on a tour of Narnia and Archenland. The purpose is to re-introduce her to the subjects of Narnia, and, hopefully, win over the people and nobility of Archenland alike and soothe the hurt pride of their esteemed neighboring kingdom. Afterwards of course, there is the actual preparations to be made, which take far longer than expected, since now they must invite far more disagreeable royals than previously exptected in a show of good faith. The wedding then, rather than taking place when Lucy is sixteen and Caspian twenty-two, happens when Lucy is half-past eighteen and a month away from Caspian's twenty-fourth birthday.

Despite being postponed nearly two-and-a-half years longer than expected, the wedding goes off without a hitch. (Unless, of course, one counts the King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands nearly fainting at the sight of his bride - she has never looked so beautiful, and he is reminded of the day he saw her rise out of the river after he was proclaimed king - and then having an inner panic attack when she jokingly hums in consideration before saying "I do" as a hitch. In which case, there were two.)

* * *

Many years pass, decades. There is happiness when Lucy announces that she is pregnant, and sorrow when she wakes up to blood-stained sheets and a terrible feeling of emptiness. After Lucy wakes a year later to find their white bed turned red yet again with the blood of an innocent life that never had the chance to live, there is all-consuming depression. There are many night of Caspian crying into his wife's hair as she screams her loss into his chest.

There is blood and war and death when Calormen steps too far and lays siege to one of Narnia's territories, setting towns on fire and driving out what few inhabitants they do not kill. But in the aftermath, there is a strong treaty and peace for forty years.

There is fragile hope when Lucy concieves again, and an indescribable joy when she gives birth to a little girl with curly dark hair and her mother's eyes. They name her Edeline, in an effort to name her after Edmund without outright giving her a boy's name. Lucy nearly dies, her body stretched too thin by the difficult pregnancy and painful birth.

Caspian spends three days by her bedside, neither eating nor sleeping. His friends and advisors are beside themselves with worry for their king, but he refuses to leave before she wakes up; one week later, she does, and he sobs in relief.

She strokes his hair and says, "You haven't been sleeping, husband. Why?"

"I couldn't leave you."

"Silly man," she teases, a soft smile on her face. "It's no good for both of us to be utterly useless." He can't help but laugh through his tears, because it's such a practical, playful, _Lucy _thing to say.

She is told, after she recovers from birthing Edeline, that she can have no more children and she mourns her dreams of a plentiful family alone, in a way not even Caspian can understand. When the head maid, a woman who's two children died of a fever when they were babes, leaves a little knitted baby bonnet on her pillow, and Lucy knows that she grieves with her; and she feels so guilty for being grateful for that.

* * *

When Edeline's husband, Asilian, is bitten by a snake and dies, all of Archenland - his homeland - and Narnia mourn his loss. He was a good man; wise, a courageous warrior, and a humble soul. He was the youngest son of the King of Archenland. He had played with Edeline when they were both children, and both of their parents will joke later that they should've have known then that he would love her; he was always at her beck and call, climbing oak trees with her even though it gave him a rash, and fetching anything she asked for. He was well-beloved by the kingdoms, and had proven himself a capable general when Archenland had been attacked by remaining pockets of witches, goblins, and trolls, who had torn through the kingdom, destroying villages.

Asilian was a boy of eighteen when he shakingly asked the Narnian monarchs for their daughter's hand in marriage. Lucy had had to answer "yes" for both of them, since Caspian was far too busy simultaneously gaping like a fish at the realization that yes, his daughter was, by Narnian law, old enough to marry, and glaring at the poor boy in front of him. How dare he ask for his _baby girl's _hand in_ marriage._ It was preposterous, she needed to be at least ten years older before she married. Preferably older.

Despite this however, the royal couple favored the boy, and Lucy in particular doted on him; he was the son she never had, and she loved him as her own. So of course they grieve when he dies, still a young man. But almost more so do they mourn when Edeline and Asilian's eldest son, Rilian, goes missing in the woods. Lucy and Caspian, who know the pain of a child lost, despair over their daughter's sorrow.

But there are other children to take care of they remind her, five other young ones who need their mother. She, fortunately, does not accuse them of forcing her out of mourning when the wound is still so fresh, and returns to her duties as Princess of Narnia and heir the throne with a vigor she has never had before, trying to push away the pain of her husband's passing and the loss of her son. (She only ever says loss, she refuses to believe him dead).

It is a hard road to recovering a semblance of normalcy, but day after day, year after year, they achieve it. If Rilian's toy sword is still propped against the wall in his room, right where he last put it, kept clean and polished as though it were brand new, then no one makes mention of it.

When the prince is returned to them by none other than Eustace Clarence Scrubb years later, both Caspian and Lucy have been long-since buried and Edeline dies the same day, grief and illness having taken years away from her life. Eustace mourns his friend and cousin, and Rilian his mother, and the grandparents he barely remembers.

* * *

They are walking in the garden, with their great-grandaughter, Thalia, propped on Lucy's hip. She coos softly to the baby, pointing out the various flowers and carefully articulating their complicated names, as though the six-month-old will remember any of it. Susanna for her part, smiles adoringly at her grandmother, and touches her white curls in fascination.

Caspian watches them as he walks beside them, and smiles to himself. His beard and hair is silver now, and there are wrinkles around his eyes, but he remains strong and sturdy as a man much younger. Lucy does not. She hides it very well, with a smile and soothing words when Caspian asks after her tiredness and forgetfulness. She brushes off his attempts to see the healer about the tremoring of her hands and head. She doesn't even mention her light-headedness and weakness that has only manifested over the past year, but Caspian can see it plain as day. But she still stands to hear the people's plights, sits with him in court, and dances with dignitaries at balls. She puts on a brave front for the world; she would hardly be the Valiant Queen if she didn't.

Caspian knows they are not young anymore; Caspian himself has lived now seventy-eight, and Lucy seventy-two. (Edeline, their only, precious child, is grown and married. She was blessed with six children: Pret and Pretin, Dor and Dorin, poor, dear Rilian, and Susanna, the youngest, who's daughter and first-born child they hold now). They've been married for fifty-four years now...So many years he's had with her.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, but can not shake the feeling of foreboding that he has had since he woke that morning. He looked over at his wife's pale face, and her breathing was so shallow that, for a terrible moment, he thought she wasn't breathing at all, and his heart stopped. Then she fluttered her eyelashes, and he breathed again. It was a false alarm, the concern should have left him the moment it ended. He was being ridiculous, worrying too much. She was here, alive and whole, and she would-

..._Lucy?_

She had suddenly gone very white, and her grip tightened on their granddaughter to keep from dropping her. Despite her best efforts, Caspian lunges forward to catch the baby in one arm and his wife in the other - _'When did she become so slight? -_ as she collapses. She's dead weight, and still he can hold her one arm; that frightens him almost as much as the ghostly palour of her skin and not nearly as much as the fact that even pressed up against her as he is, he cannot feel her heartbeat.

_"Help! Please!"_

* * *

There is nothing they can do, he knew that even when he shouted for someone, anyone to please help him. His wife is dying. She may not die today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but she is dying. Not in battle, or due to some rare disease from an exotic adventure, but from the slow decay of old age.

He lets his face fall into his palms and lets out a shuddering breathe. He can't remember what it is like to be lonely, as he had been before he met her. He can't recall how to live day-to-day without her presence beside him, always knowing what he was thinking, what he had done, what he was going to do and why. Lucy masterfully leading soldiers into battle; Lucy spinning her words to enchant all who listened to her, whether it be in telling a story or arranging a treaty in Narnia's favor. Lucy the Valiant, Lucy his Queen, Lucy his friend, Lucy his Wife, _his _Lucy.

He sleeps that night with his arms wrapped around her, and they cling to each other in a way that reminds him of how she had thrown herself at him in happiness when he proposed. I makes his heart ache.

* * *

The next morning, she is cold in his arms. The palace healer had predicted as much - that she likely wouldn't last the week. What he, and indeed, no one had, or could have predicted was that he too was cold in hers. They were as two trees who were planted so close together that they morphed into one. This is the result of many years of being so near to each other, and their very roots twin themselves together. In the end, it is impossible to separate them again without killing them both.

There was no natural reason for the king to have died, healthy as he was, and there were some who suspected foul play. But that is because no one heard the promise uttered to each other on their wedding day.

_"Promise me one thing, Lucy Love."_

_"Anything."_

_"Don't leave me alone. Don't go before I do."_

_"I can't promise that."_

_"Do it anyway, please."_

_"...I promise."_

Nor did any hear the prayer uttered to Aslan, deep into the night where the queen begged, _"Don't make me break my promise." _The intention of the plea was for Aslan to let her live just a bit longer, just long enough so that her king wouldn't be alone. But she _couldn't_ live any longer, her body couldn't take it. But the prayer was answered nonetheless, and they died at the same moment in each other's arms.

* * *

Centuries later, the great love between the Sea-Faring King and the Valiant Queen will still be told. To young lovers, who will then look at each other and promise _"of course I love you that way, darling,"_ and wide-eyed little children who will listen to their parents in awe.

Girls and boys will tug on their Mother's skirts and ask if they will ever marry someone who loves them that way. Some, not wanting to disappoint their little ones, will offer reassuring smiles, soothing words, and pats on the head before sending them off to fetch something. Others, the wiser, more honest bunch, will kneel down to the level of their children up and say, "Very few do darling, but isn't it nice to know it exsists?"

And it is; it truly is.

* * *

_Well hot diggity-damn, I don't think I could've made that longer even if I bet my soul on it 0.0! I hope you guys like this ridiculously long two shot and bless your hearts for persevering through Chapter One ;-P._

xoxo

FaerieQueen3


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